


Disguise, I See Thou Art A Wickedness

by laceaesthetic



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unrequited Love, both relationships are unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceaesthetic/pseuds/laceaesthetic
Summary: The marriage of Lady Donetta Cruller and her commoner lover, Calroy, was a quiet affair. Prince Amethar insisted on bearing witness to the marriage of his close friend, despite the war that raged on outside of the quiet church.A recollection of memories of a peasant named Calroy, and how he turned into a villain of the highest degree.
Relationships: Calroy Cruller & Donetta Cruller, Calroy Cruller/Amethar Rocks, Calroy Cruller/Donetta Cruller
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Disguise, I See Thou Art A Wickedness

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really touched the "A Crown of Candy: The Complete Experience" so any hidden trivia on that series about Calroy's machinations that aren't in his wiki will not be reflected in this fic. Additionally, I left the wording on this ambiguous enough so that you can image canon cake Calroy in this, but I imagined humanized Calroy in my head.
> 
> Apologies in advance to Sam, for this is not the lavender marriage of her dreams.
> 
> Enjoy!

The marriage of Lady Donetta Cruller and her commoner lover, Calroy, was a quiet affair. Prince Amethar insisted on bearing witness to the marriage of his close friend, despite the war that raged on outside of the quiet church. Indeed was Lady Donetta flustered by the presence of royalty, (she had never gotten quite used to it) so much so that she stuttered on every line of her vows, vows she had recited to perfection only the day before.

Calroy had found the entire situation amusing, chuckling as he placed the ring upon his bride’s dainty fingers. They were the fingers of a woman who was never faced with hard labor, dainty and unblemished by callouses. They seemed so bright against Calroy’s roughened hands. He worked on farms prior to the war, and his layers of scars and tough muscle only helped him carry a sword when the war began.

Here did the farmhand stand, married to a marquess and allowed a private audience with a prince, suddenly at a dizzying height of status many never dream of. Of course, this was all planned in advance. For it was public knowledge that Prince Amethar was only good for fighting, it stood to reason that he would be put to work within the war. It only took a little research on Calroy’s part to learn what troop he would command. Though the commoner’s hands did shake upon the first week of battle, (he had never known that other people’s blood would _reek_ so much when they met his blade) they soon steadied when the prince patted Calroy’s back in thanks for killing a man that had injured Amethar’s leg. That was the first sign that his plan may be feasible at all, rather than just a ludicrous dream to think about when he slept in a sleeping bag, only a few feet away from the prince’s private tent.

Calroy had kept up with news in Muffinfield, it felt important to him to keep an eye on what happened in his hometown. When young Lady Donetta had suddenly inherited the land after her father died in battle (after all, he had never been the sort to be good with a weapon, much more of a gentle scholar) Calroy thought it might be best to send her a letter of condolence. Perhaps he was emboldened by his promotion through the military ranks, or perhaps he thought it to be unlikely for a minor lady of an insignificant land to receive much mail. Either way, his letter was filled words cramped together to fill the page, the length more similar to a chapter in a book than any courtesy message.

He told the marquess of his childhood in Muffinfield, told her how he fought to bring glory and recognition back to her lands, (such blatant lies can be easily written through a letter that can not convey tone) and near the end, he confessed of how he admired her beauty. His message had been written over the course of a week, and cheekily signed off as _“Soon-to-be war hero, Calroy the commoner.”_

What a surprise it had been for Calroy, when the missive had handed him a letter sealed with the waxy emblem of House Cruller. Lady Donetta, so charmed by the peasant’s story, began her letter with _“To my dearest champion, Calroy.”_ Such was the first in a long line of courting letters. It would take a year for Lady Donetta to ever profess that she held some affection for her soldier that went beyond a noble’s love for her people. When that letter arrived, Calroy breathed a sigh of relief that his ink was not wasted on a noblewoman who had a handful of options outside of one persistent commoner. On the other hand, he was not using his ink to write for anyone else, so it’s not as if it was a scarce resource.

Almost by chance, his troop had been sent out to clear Ceresian forces in Muffinfield a mere week after Lady Donetta’s confession. He fought valiantly next to the prince’s side, and sweet Donetta had watched from her estate as the bloodshed raged on. When they won, Prince Amethar had made it a point to meet with the marquess, Calroy only one step behind, to apologize for not being able prevent the Ceresian forces from causing any havoc in the first place. Calroy still remembers her meekness to talk to a prince, only to see her face shift to wonder when Amethar introduced his right-hand man.

“This is Calroy, he’s one of my most trusted advisers. Cal told me that he grew up in Muffinfield, so I thought he might like to meet you,” and that was all he said, for Calroy never disclosed to him exactly who was the receiver of Calroy’s long letters.

Donetta had smiled, quick to catch on that the prince knew nothing of their shared words, and said, “Calroy, what a pleasure it is to know that one of my subjects has saved me. Might I have a private word with you?” Amethar, unable to spot the growing blush on her face, thought nothing of her request and allowed them a moment alone. This was the first of their many meetings, and she was the first person Calroy had successfully manipulated into believing his loyalty was true.

It would take a little less than a year for their marriage to occur. Donnie (as she so loved to be called in private) was anxious to be wed before her lands be given to someone else. She had snubbed other suitors for Calroy, and the minor lords and ladies began to grow suspicious that she might never be wed at all. She assured Calroy that the wedding was a formality, that he could still fight for as long as he was needed—though she wouldn’t stop worrying about his safety—and that they need not worry about completing _other_ marital duties. This was all fine for Calroy, though he learned to love Donetta as a friend, he had little interest in producing an heir for the Cruller estate _and_ the processes necessary for securing an heir.

Donetta seemed pleased to learn that Calroy would be taking her name, in fact her joy made it so that she did little to question his aversion to his own surname. He had told her once, when she asked, but they never again brought it up. This benefited Calroy as well, for it was much easier to request audience with Ceresian generals and commanders under a well-established name and title such as Lord Cruller, rather than to approach them as a mere commoner.

Of course, Lord Cruller was still young, liable to mistakes and ignorance. General Rococoa, far older and wiser noticed his odd habits, his still unsteady words to Amethar. General Rococoa was a genius, but it would have not taken a genius to follow Calroy’s trail leading up to Ceresia’s sudden weapon influx. Her knowledge made her a danger that had to be dealt with, and if that led to Amethar one step closer to the throne, then all the better for Calroy. General Rococoa was the first betrayal made on Calroy’s orders.

However, he knew himself to be too messy to snuff the light out with his own hands and still make it look like other forces. On the other hand, Ceresian forces were more than happy to take out the heiress of the throne. It all worked out quite well for Rococoa to die a warrior’s death, she always seemed far more interested in bloodshed than political machinations to Calroy. Amethar finding her body was a shame, but a chance to further bond with the prince, so lost in grief he never noticed the way Calroy gave a cold, calculating look at the princess’s body before falling into a feigned expression of shock.

What a surprise it had been, to see every sister fall like dominoes in quick succession, turning Amethar from prince to king, and turning Calroy from war buddy to Master of State. Calroy mourned every sister alongside Amethar, as his dreams steadily became more and more feasible. Donetta was a little morose to leave Muffinfield unattended, but her excitement at tending to the royal family crushed any half-formed objections. Though she was awful at keeping her composure around them, Donetta had always enjoyed rubbing elbows with House Rocks.

Thus began twenty years of peace, and thus began Calroy’s permanent position as an honorary member of House Rocks. As much as he loathe to admit it, he found a kindred soul in Caramelinda, who had fallen in love with the tactical genius of Lazuli, only to be seated with Amethar’s incompetence. Her misfortune (and Calroy’s luck) had led to their meeting and light friendship.

They alone kept Castle Candy standing, and they kept Amethar sober enough to talk at formal celebrations. Calroy could feel that deeply-hidden resentment in Caramelinda, if only because he saw it in his own reflection. Yet, those little moments where Caramelinda would smile and lean into Amethar’s shoulder, only for Amethar to press a gentle kiss on her brow bone, those little moments unnerved Calroy. It deeply unsettled him to see that one could both resent and love a person, for that love to be more blatant and true than the resentment. He often turned away when they would kiss, something deep within him jealous at the brazen display of affection.

He kissed Donetta, on the cheek in public and on the lips in private when she requested, but they were empty gestures that relied on muscle memory. She seemed to enjoy them far more than he did. Donetta was kind and docile. She always hesitated to touch a member of the royal family, and made sure to never speak out of turn. It was always entertaining to watch her. She was so convinced that there was some vast distance between her and true royalty. He often wondered how she would react when she was named queen by his side. Then again, he often wondered if she would even be by his side when the time came to it. He could not yet parse if she was more loyal to him or House Rocks.

Donetta loved him truly, giving gentle reminders that they might need an heir one day. He often cited her younger siblings as already having capable heirs, and she often quieted at that. It was an uneasy topic for between the two of them, only growing more uneasy as time went on and Donetta grew older. With the birth of the princesses, her reminders turned up again, though she never truly pushed him—she was far too kind for that.

The princesses. They were a wrench in his plans, to say the least. They were born too early for him to have feasibly taken the crown before their birth, and Calroy could do a great deal of things but the thought of infanticide made him more than a little queasy. It would take him some time to wrap his plans around them.

Of course, when they grew into adolescence, and more Saint’s Days flew by, the pair began to grow increasingly interested in battle. Though Calroy couldn’t teach them any truly deadly skills, he had no issue with teaching them just enough to get their hopes high of their fighting prowess. If they met a fight that they could not properly defend themselves against, then what a _tragedy_ it would have been for the throne of Candia to have lost its twin heirs.

But castle security was tight, and though the princesses snuck away often, they only ever traveled the main roads in the protection of daylight. Calroy knew it would take another war for the girls to die of their own accord. He had just begun to send out threads of discord among other nations when the missive from Emperor Uvano arrived.

That, of course, was another wrench in his plans. Though, it was easily fixable by pulling on those threads he had placed in Lacramor. Stilton Curdeau was another kindred soul, though of a different nature than Caramelinda. He was hungry for power, but unlike Calroy, he was young and gullible enough to believe any lie sent to him with a waxy seal.

Perhaps, it was Curdeau’s age and inexperience with war in the end that made it so hard for his men to land any decent hits on the king. Though, he would have taken out one princess were it not for Lapin. So, he supposes, he can applaud their efforts.

In thanks to the young lord, he lightly encouraged Primsy to follow her heart wherever it leads her. Donetta, ever ignorant, was enraptured by Primsy’s tales of young love, and she revealed some of the things Calroy had done to win her attention. Seeing the two women, so similar in ways that they had no idea of, created a hollow pain in his chest. Again he wondered about Donetta’s future.

Truly, the whole trip to Comida was busy for Calroy, who had finally seen all those tentative threads he had placed in person. Even upon arriving, new threads had presented themselves, with Manta Ray Jack’s drunken slip up being an easy thing to whisper in Sir Keradin Deeproot’s ear and secure good standing with the church. He tried not to think too much on how Amethar had trusted a loose-lipped sailor over him, lest it bruise his ego. He tried to convince himself it showed Amethar’s incompetence more than it did his failure to properly ingratiate himself with the king in those early battle-filled days.

The other assassination attempt at the tournament was expected, planned. Amethar disqualifying himself to alert the audience was not. Indeed, so wise was the king’s move that Calroy’s heart did begin to jump wildly against his chest. In the end, it helped fuel his act to the public as he cried for a healer. Liam risking life and limb, and subsequently taking blame for Ruby’s magic, was less than ideal. The Wilhemina boy had done nothing to warrant Calroy’s spite, and he would have preferred to leave him out of all these antics. However, there were unique benefits to keeping him on the hook.

What was unexpected on this trip, was a bloodied Manta Ray Jack and Sir Morris Brie approaching him for help while he prepared for the voyage home. It was true that he held no kind feelings for Manta Ray, but it was also true that he had no idea when Amethar would return to Castle Candy—if at all. To reveal his true nature would be to alert Amethar to his impending betrayal. Erring on the side of caution, he escorted the Dairy Islanders out of Comida, knowing he was granting them a safe passage with no resistance. Still, he did put a little effort into making it look like getting caught was a real possibility. All a part of politics.

He did not extend the same courtesy to Lord and Lady Swirlie. They were spineless fools, and he often thought Candia would be better without them. He would let them make their own way out. Their fate did not alter his plans in the slightest.

* * *

Returning to Castle Candy meant preparing the final pieces on his board. It was time to collect his last loose thread.

He waited to be alone with Lady Donetta in their bedroom. He loathed to have this conversation, but it was necessary. Donetta had become a genuine friend over the years. She was smart and could hold her own. Sharing personal space with another person for over twenty years made the heart grow terribly fond, it seemed. She always found a reason to clasp his hand under the table when they dined, and one day, Calroy realized that he no longer found the gesture childish.

He had made many memories with her over the years, shared over forty Saint’s Days between the two of them. He knew her mannerisms better than anyone else, and in turn, Donetta knew a version of him that he sometimes wishes was true.

“Donnie,” he starts, careful to be loving in tone and sweet in touch. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to really consider it.” He takes in her curious gaze and begins to outline his plans for a coup. He’s careful to make it seem as if this was merely a spur of the moment idea, doesn’t talk about how everything, since he’s joined the war all those years ago, was a way to make this plan a reality.

He doesn’t talk about how their marriage is based on a lie. He doesn’t talk about how he orchestrated Rococoa’s death, or how he tried and failed to orchestrate a handful of assassination attempts against Amethar. He doesn’t talk about anything he’s done in the past, nor does he talk about the grim reality of having to kill Amethar in the future.

Donetta doesn’t look pleased, in fact she looks scared out of her mind. “Calroy,” she starts in equal tone, “The Rocks family are the rightful heir to the throne. Even if King Amethar is ex-communicated, _well,_ there’s those rumors of a daughter of Catherine Ghee and King Amethar. Surely, she’ll have a claim to the throne.”

He holds the side of Donetta’s head, gentle but strong, making sure that her attention is on his face and not on his hand slowly inching its way towards his sword. “She’s a commoner, Donnie. I doubt she’ll have an existing record to show that her mother was Catherine, and even if she did, there’s no way to verify that it was the _right_ Catherine Ghee. They’ll never see her as the rightful heir.”

“But, _you’re_ a commoner too, Cal. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but there’s less royal blood in you than there is in Saccharina,” she replies.

Calroy leans in, as if for a kiss, and smiles sweetly, “I’m married to you, my love. That is enough nobility to satisfy anyone.”

Donetta, sweet Donetta who’s fiercely loyal to _both_ her husband and her king, refuses to budge. “Calroy,” she tries again, “I still don’t think this is a good idea. Please, it’d be best to wait for Amethar to return. You know how much he adores you-”

It’s clear to Calroy that there is no place for Donetta in his plans. Without allowing her to finish her sentence, he unsheathes his sword (the only other thing on him is the dagger that he has to save for Amethar) and pierces it straight through her heart. He watches Donetta’s expression change from stern yet loving to unabashed horror.

She says no final words in the last moments, struggling enough to draw in a final breath. Calroy watches her drop to her knees as her strength gives out, and in one final act of love, he withdraws his sword and holds her in his arms. As her eyes glaze over, she weeps one soft tear, not of pain, but of loss. Her tear is what makes Calroy break. He frantically passes a hand over her chest, hoping and praying he might still feel her strong heart fight for life a few seconds more. He feels nothing.

It occurs to him that he had never killed an ally, someone he once considered a close friend, with his own hands before. He had only puppeteered others to do the dirty work before. A shake in his hands, one he has not seen since his first week in the war, grows, but he steadies it. It’s too late to go back to normal now. He rises, sees the shiny blood of his wife on his hand and takes a breath. He supposes that it’s for the best she died in their quarters. He’s still unsure if the Cruller soldiers are more loyal to him than they were to Donetta. He can sleep in another room until he can get some Ceresian soldiers to dispose of the body for him.

He closes the door on the body and tries to steady himself for what comes next.

* * *

Having a private moment with the king was expected. Having a private moment with the king on the highest point of his castle is a surprise, but not unwelcomed. He listens to Amethar, barely registering what he says, and he thinks of Donetta loving him until he drove a blade into her heart. He knows now that he’s too much of a coward to face Amethar, so he stalks behind him, buries the water dagger deep into his back.

His words are automatic, a script he’s first rehearsed in the dirty tents of a common soldier. He says them with the years of resentment behind them, though no fire begins to rage from within him, its all old wounds. Though his hands and words are steady, his heartbeat begins to scatter wildly. A deep part within him wonders if he really wanted this outcome at all, but his muscles move without his mind.

As he wraps his arms around Amethar to hoist him up, perhaps the last time he’ll ever be able to hold him tightly, he feels the warmth of the king and the strength in his muscles. He realizes that this is a sensation he has longed for, has needed desperately, for more than he can recall. It strikes Calroy that he’s loved Amethar, despite all of his faults, ever since he’s met him. How could a commoner not love his king? How could a young boy not flush at the touch of a prince’s hand on his shoulder? He recognizes the deep emptiness in his heart as loss as he hoists Amethar’s large body over the castle wall.

He doesn’t watch Amethar’s paralyzed body fall, simply backs away and heads down to alert his men to attack House Rocks. He tries to ignore the way his breath shakes before he gives an order. Calroy understands politics, and politics is sending others off to moves things into place. It is putting enough effort into things to make it look as if it was pure chance. His dagger in Amethar’s back was not politics, it was personal.

* * *

Seeing Amethar again makes his facade break completely. The coward within him, the commoner still plowing land on a nameless Muffinfield farm, had hoped he could slip away without any consequence. His eyes dart to Amethar, who’s face is contorted in rage, and then they slip to another mysterious figure blocking his exit.

He can’t bring himself to confess of his mistake, can’t bring himself to even admit to his once closest friend that perhaps, for a moment, he dreamed of embracing him like a lover might, can’t bring himself to say that such dreams are what kept him from betraying Amethar for so long. He gasps and stutters and stammers instead.

The words get stuck in his throat because he no longer has a private audience with the king. _Who is that other man?_

”A distant cousin,” Amethar answers unprompted.

It doesn’t matter who he is, because the mere fact that this final confrontation with Amethar won’t be in private is humiliating enough to Calroy. He feels a rage boil inside of him, not the long-forgotten resentment he felt while watching Amethar stumble in drunk to council meetings, but a rage at the way that everything in this moment feels so _wrong._

He uses this rage to lift his sword and slash at Amethar’s chest. One final (but misguided) attempt to make Amethar’s heart his. The king does not flinch, he didn’t strike deep enough to harm any of his vital organs, he knows, but he can’t aim for the heart again, he _can’t, not after Donetta._ He pulls his punches, as he did for the assassins on Sucrosi Road all those days ago, knowing that this time it’ll cost him his life. He can’t bring himself to care. 

He watches Payment Day rise in Amethar’s large hands, and it glows with magic. For a moment, against the rising sun, he sees Rococoa in the reflection of the blade. Her eyes steeled and face devoid of any particularly strong emotion. Perfectly neutral. She gives Calroy one poised, purposeful nod, and then the sword comes down. Amethar, blood still trickling down on his chest, large grunt only just forming, is the last thing Calroy ever sees.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Twelfth Night by Shakespeare. Yeah I'm a theatre gay what of it?
> 
> You can check me out at:  
> twt: spideydevil616  
> tumblr: gardensofeve


End file.
